Coming of Age
by Zachary Osgood
Summary: This is a bit of an experiment, inspired by one of my favorite authors in writing about Corpse Bride, PlayerPiano. Anyway this story is an attempt to explain the relation between Tim Burton's movies Corpse Bride and Frankenwennie. I highly encourage you to look into reading PlayerPiano's stories as well considering much of my content is inspired by his work!
1. My Butterfly

She doesn't have the lightest clue why she bothers looking out the window. There's never a bright day, or one worth admiring. Day by day it's always gray and gloomy, and the rain has started tapping on the outside glass on schedule; like clockwork. Lydia Van Dort simply sighs as she leans back against cold bay window and readjusts herself to sit comfortably on the window seat. The spine of her fathers' book of poems is rough as Lydia runs her finger down it. She opens the book and flips through the pages until she finds her favorite poem by Robert Frost, My Butterfly. Lydia almost finds her choice of poetry amusing given she is surrounded by her father's drawings of butterflies.

One of her father's drawings however takes her eyes off her book, and it's the one she prefers to ignore. A drawing of the alleged woman she is named after, Emily; Lydia Emily Van Dort. The "Corpse Bride" as Lydia has come to know, has been framed and hung along the wall of her fathers' study since she can remember. She can remember as a child asking him about it, but he would never tell her the story. "When you're older," he'd simply say, "when you may be able to understand better". That story as she was told not too long ago, she still can't quite comprehend and a part of her still resents her father for what he did to mother. She still finds herself asking: How could father abandon mother at the alter for a dead woman? So much so he was willing to kill himself for her? Lydia is beside herself that mother would allow father to have it displayed proudly, or to even have drawn it for that matter!

However, since the last time she confronted her father about the dead bride, she has held her tongue and kept her opinions to herself. Her mother and father have never shown any aggression towards each other over the matter, at least they haven't in front of her or her sisters. Lydia however keeps silent mostly because she doesn't want to risk starting anything between her parents, but also partly because she doesn't want her freedom to come and go from her fathers' study to be taken away.

The bay window seat is easily her favorite place in the house, especially for when she takes time to read, and fathers' collection of literature that lines the shelves on the far wall provide her with a vast selection. Her mother has some books she keeps in her bedroom that she brought from Grandfather and Grandmother Everglots house, she'd tell her they were her late Aunt Lavinia's and she wasn't allowed to read them. That was alright by Lydia, she rather liked reading fathers' books, she even enjoys looking through the global atlas and studying the various maps of the world. She'll also often skim through his various books on anthropology.

Fantastic, Lydia thought to herself, not only do I look like father, I also like the things he likes.

Indeed, she looks a lot like her father, so much so that when she was younger it use to disturb Grandma Van Dort. In the last few years however, she has noticed some of her mothers' features gradually come in. Mainly in her facial structure, her cheeks have rounded out a bit, but she still has her fathers' distinctive pointy chin. She is also starting to get her mothers' high cheek bones as she nears her sixteenth birthday.

When that was, the soft mist

Of my regret hung not on all the land,

And I was glad for thee,

And glad for me, I wist.

Lydia stops reading at the end of the stanza and closes the book with her thumb keeping place of her page as the study door opens slowly. On the other side of the door, her mother takes a small step into the doorway and stares at her from across the room.

"Your father and sister's will be coming home soon," she says softly with a smile, "won't you come downstairs and wait for them with me, Lydia?"

Lydia could truly careless to see her father or not, and she could certainly do without seeing her sisters a while longer. She longs for these few times when they are all away, it gives her some time to herself and not have to deal with the drama between them. However, she has never been able to say "no" to her mother.

"Yes, Mother." Lydia mumbles.

Her mother nods, "I'll be in the parlor, dear."

Victoria turns to leave before quickly looking back over her shoulder and Lydia catches her taking a glance over at the "Corpse Bride Drawing" and give a gentle smile in its direction. The door latches shut behind her and Lydia can hear her footsteps become faint as she walks down the hall towards the banister.

Lydia looks over at the drawing. Why? Is all she can think.

She takes her thumb out of the book and closes it before resting it back on the bookshelf and moves towards the study door to join her mother.


	2. The Newcomer

Technically Lydia wasn't rid of all her sisters, she forgot her youngest sister, Mary, had decided to stay behind. Frankly, Lydia can't blame her, and she has feeling mother can't either. Father took her sisters into town for tea with Grandfather and Grandmother Everglot. Something she knows her father isn't too thrilled about attending. Lydia recalls once overhearing her mother and father in the kitchen one morning discussing how they would trade off between each other on who would bring their daughters to tea. This time the excuse was Lydia and Mary had an appointment to be fitted for new dresses to which Victoria had to attend.

It wasn't a complete lie; indeed, the girls _had_ a fitting, only it was about three weeks ago, and they got the dresses after two weeks. However, they couldn't come up with another child falling ill, it would either look too suspicious or concerns would start to rise of a potentially disease infested family. Regardless if that were the case, Lydia has little doubt Grandfather and Grandmother Everglot would keep it hidden from the public eye.

In the parlor, Lydia faces away from the piano as she takes a seat on its bench and looks over at her mother and eight-year-old sister sitting on the vintage upholstered love seat. A wicker basket filled with cloth and spools of thread sits at Victoria's feet. Spread across hers and Mary's lap is blanket in clear need of mending. Mary listens attentively to her mother teaching her how to sew. Lydia watches her mother run the needle and thread through the fabric, up and down, in the blanket and out the blanket; it was almost hypnotic to watch, making Lydia want to fall asleep. However, she forces herself to stay awake to avoid embarrassing herself by crashing down onto the piano keys. Her mother would simply laugh, Mary might give her grief later. _Might_. Lydia however doesn't have that many issues with Mary as she does with Catherine.

Mary finishes mending a tear before Victoria sets the blanket aside. With the blanket pulled away, Lydia can see more of Mary's brilliant yellow dress. Her sisters' attire is quite contrary to her own. Instead of dresses, corsets, bloomers, and all the nonsense that comes with a lady "properly dressing", Lydia prefers to wear an old pair of her fathers' overalls he'd wear in the garden with a long muslin shirt underneath. The only time she ever pulls her hair back into a bun like her mothers or put on a dress, is when she is visiting the grandparents and her mother asks her to.

The all too common noise of Lydia's sisters bickering between each other can be heard behind the front door, followed by their father telling them to stop before he opens the door and the girls come barging in.

 _And here we go._ Lydia thinks to herself.

Mary jumps to her feet from next to Victoria and runs up to embrace her father. Victor gets down on one knee so that he is eye level with Mary as he wraps his arms around her.

"Hello, Mary." He says.

Victoria smiles as she stands up to see her husband. But before she even takes two steps, Catherine runs across the parlor with a spring in her step as she shouts out "Mommy" with delight. Victoria is knocked back slightly as Catherine hugs her middle, she gasps as she regains her footing, but quickly laughs to Catherine's loving gesture.

Lydia however rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath, "What a little kiss a—"

"Lydia Emily Van Dort." Her father says firmly behind her. Evidently, she was louder than she thought.

Hearing her sister being scolded by their father, Catherine turns way from her mother and smirks at Lydia. "And why weren't you there for tea, Lydia?" she cunningly asks, "Did you not want to see Grandmother and Grandfather?"

"No." Lydia says assertively, "I didn't want to see _you_."

Catherine scowls at her sister's remark, but as she opens her mouth to make her comeback, Victoria places her hand on her shoulder in a quite gesture for her to stop.

Victoria walks past Catherine and Lydia to Victor. She wraps one arm around him as he places his hand on her opposite shoulder. Victoria stands up on her toes, so she can softly kiss his cheek. Victor smiles and returns it with a kiss on her forehead.

"Girls," Victoria says turning her attention back to her daughters, "why don't you leave your father and I be for a while? Mrs. Reed's in the kitchen preparing dinner, I'm sure she wouldn't mind some help."

"Yes, Mother." The girls say almost in unison.

The girls move towards the kitchen, Lydia following from the rear. However, she stops in the doorway to look back at her parents. They've moved to sitting at the piano bench where she sat moments ago, only they sit facing the piano. Her fathers' right arm around her mother's waist and he swipes his finger across the ivory keys with his opposite hand.

"How was the visit?" she hears her mother ask.

Her father laughs in his throat, "Like every other one with your parents. Dull, awkward, and the occasional jab at the way we choose to live."

Lydia sneaks away from the parlor towards the kitchen, trying not to make any noise. Although any noise she makes would likely be drowned out by her father playing the piano behind her. Though she doesn't spend much time with her father, she does enjoy listening to him play. When she was younger, she would sit with him at that piano as he'd give her lessons. Those days seeming so long ago. Lydia pauses for a moment in the hallway and listens into the parlor, she can always tell the difference between her mother and father playing. Father always plays so smoothly and with confidence, mother as she still learning, is often hesitant, plays quietly, and occasionally will hit the wrong key.

In the kitchen, Lydia finds Anne rolling out a wad of dough on the island counter top to make biscuits for supper while Mrs. Reed chops away at a bushel of carrots.

Lydia steps into the kitchen doorway and clears her throat, "Mother told me to see if you need any help with supper, Mrs. Reed."

The older woman looks over her shoulder at Lydia, "Ah, Lydia!" she says happily, "Yes, I could use some help preparing chicken soup for supper. Would you get the soup pot out, fill it with water, and set it to boil on the stove?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Lydia says as she moves to the cupboard.

Having her father's height has its advantages, she can reach for places her sister's – particularly Catherine – can't. With little struggle, Lydia pulls the pot down from the shelf and places it in the sink under the faucet. Her parents have never been ones to spoil their family's money on luxuries, however, they made an exception for indoor plumbing. Mrs. Reed certainly didn't seem to mind, it saves her from having to make trips outside to get water from the pump. As a mater of fact, she thinks Mrs. Reed was the real reason her mother and father decided to get the appliance.

Lydia reaches for the faucet handle when she stops to hearing Mrs. Reed scoff. She looks to her right to find the old woman staring into the tin lined potato drawer and feeling around inside it.

"Something wrong?" Lydia asks.

"Yes." Mrs. Reed says with a frustrated tone, "We are out of potatoes. My husband forgot to pick them up on his trip into town for supplies." Mrs. Reed stands up straight and wipes the dust on her hand from the drawer onto her apron. "Lydia, dearie, would you be so kind as to go ask Mr. Reed to go into town and pick the potatoes up? He should be in the stables."

Lydia nods, "Yes, Ma'am."

Lydia walks to the kitchen door that leads into the backyard, as soon as she slips on her boots she walks outside and makes for the stables. The closer she gets to the wooden shack; the sweet smell of hay with the colliding musky smell of their horse, Jax, gets stronger. Lydia moves to the front of the stable to find its large doors wide open, inside is the black carriage sitting idly by waiting to be hooked up to Jax. Jax, who stands in his stable, lets out a muffled bellow as he turns his long beautiful gray and white speckled head towards the stable's visitor. Though Mr. Reed is keen on keeping the stable clean, Lydia still watches her step as she walks in.

"Mr. Reed?" Lydia asks into the open space.

Lydia is taken by surprise when a man steps out from behind the carriage, only it's not Mr. Reed, but rather a younger man looking to only be a couple years older than herself. Lydia lets out a little gasp at the presence of the unknown stranger, yet at the same time she finds herself feeling enamored as he is rather attractive. Lydia makes an attempt to better present herself as she straightens her hair and – _overalls_ – Lydia remembers she isn't wearing a dress.

 _"_ _Hello?"_ the man says, almost as if he was questioning why _she_ was there.

Lydia fidgets uncomfortably, bewildered how she forgot how to say "hello".

She stands there hoping something will break the awkwardness, when suddenly she hears Mr. Reeds voice, "Lydia! Nice to see you, child."

From behind Jax, Mr. Reed is seen walking around the large horse after giving him a thorough grooming. The old man steps outside the stall and latches the wooden door behind him. With his back turned to Lydia, he clears his throat with a grumble, "You've already met Nathan I see."

The man steps out further from behind the carriage and gives Lydia a wave, "Pleasure to meet you. Nathaniel Wallis, at your service. Your name, _Lydia_ , is it?"

Lydia stirs even more. _Say something!_ She shouts to herself.

"Yes!" she says at last, and a bit loud, so much that Jax even reared back.

Lydia gathers herself back and says calmly, "Yes, Lydia Van Dort. Pleasure to meet you as well, Nathaniel."

Mr. Reed walks over to Nathan and places a hand on his shoulder. "Nathan is a newcomer to the village, and rather a helpful hand might I add. He helped me unload today's supplies from town." Mr. Reed reaches into his pocket and pulls out his pocketbook. "Which reminds me." He digs around for some cash, but Nathan is quick to raise his hand in protest.

"Oh, no, no, Sir." He states, "I'm happy to help, but I ask nothing for it."

Mr. Reed gleams, "Well how modest of you." He turns his attention to Lydia. "How may I help you, child?"

Lydia searches her thoughts in a desperate attempt to remember why she even came out to the stables in the first place.

 _Potatoes_.

"Oh, yes." Lydia says at last, "Mrs. Reed wanted me to tell you that you forgot to get potatoes from the market and would like it if you could go into town to retrieve them."

Mr. Reed scratches the stubble on his robust chin, "I did?" He hums to himself before saying with a laugh, "Well I suppose I did, the Missis is never wrong after all."

Mr. Reed looks to Nathan, "Mr. Wallis, I don't suppose I could at least repay you with a ride into town, would I?"

Nathan smiles, "It would be much appreciated, Sir."

Lydia suddenly bursts out, "Can I come too?"

The two look at her with a bit of curiosity as to why.

Quickly, Lydia comes up with an excuse. "I could use the fresh air."

Authors Note: I'm getting the first two chapters out within the first two days of releasing to book. After this I hope to publish one chapter every Saturday. I hope you enjoy!


	3. Potato Pick-up

Lydia wasn't thinking about the trip itself when she volunteered to join Mr. Reed and Nathan on their trip into town. She didn't really consider herself sitting in the carriage alone with this stranger who she finds herself attracted to, while Mr. Reed is outside the carriage on Jaxs' reins. She tries not to think what her parents would think of her willingness to get in a carriage with nobody she knows, and a man none the less.

Lydia also tries not to look at Nathan for too long, she doesn't want him to be uncomfortable with her staring at him; although the ride itself is considerably uncomfortable. She just can't not look at him, she wants to admire his features. Lydia starts a pattern of where she diverts her eyes, in the hopes she can get a good look at him while being discrete. Window, carpet, him, carpet, window, carpet, him, carpet, and the cycle goes on. Lydia takes note of his combed back blonde hair, beautiful big eyes, high cheek bones, and the occasional smile he gives her is warm and comforting.

"You may as well just look at me." Nathan says with a grin.

Lydia looks at him directly in the eye and tries to say convincingly, "What do you mean?"

"Come on," he says, "do you think I haven't noticed your quick glances at me? Trying to piece together what I look like, so you don't have to stare."

Lydia's feels her face get warm, she's blushing. With her skin so pale, she has no doubt he notices. She hangs her head slightly and stares at the floor in embarrassment.

Nathan laughs, "I know you have, because I've been doing the same."

Lydia's embarrassment lifts and she becomes absolutely giddy to the thought of him trying to get quick glances of her too.

He's been eyeing me?! Lydia thinks to herself as she lifts her head back up to look him in his gorgeous eyes again.

"We may as well try and make this ride a little less awkward by getting to know each other."

"Fair enough." Lydia says.

"I've heard your name before, Van Dort, where may I have heard it?"

Oh, great, Lydia thinks, time for him to find out I come from the Fish Family.

"Err, my family owns the fish canning industry in town; Van Dort Fish."

Nathan nods, "Yes, that does sound familiar. If I remember right, your family supplied fish to my hometown."

Lydia's curiosity raises, there are very few neighboring towns that's supplied by Van Dort Fish. "You're hometown? Where are you from?"

"Well, it wasn't so much my hometown as it was just one of the towns where I've stayed the longest."

Nathan's comment strikes Lydia as being a little strange, 'one of the towns'. She carefully and politely asks Nathan to elaborate.

"I've never really had a home." Nathan says with a hint of embarrassment behind his voice, "I've been living my life much like a drifter, not really knowing where I'm going to lay my head at night. I find work where it's available and typically part of my paycheck includes a bed and a hot meal."

Lydia must admit, she is impressed by his ability to live without certainty. However, her heart suddenly feels to plummet into the deepest pit of her stomach as she comes to grasp the idea that being a drifter, he must have been with several women. He may not even be, abstinent. Lydia wonders how she can subtly ask such a question.

After quick debate in her head, she decides to simply just ask. If he does like her, he would understand why she'd ask. "I'm guessing then you've seen your fair share of women?"

Nathan lets out a deep breath. "Concerned, are you?"

"My apologies if I'm stepping over my boundaries."

Nathan hums as if taking a moment to consider if she is or not. "No, that's quite fine. Seen, indeed, I have seen my fair share of women. Many as beautiful as yourself."

Lydia screams with delight inside in hearing him call her beautiful.

"However," he continues, "I've never taken the time to ever properly court anyone."

The carriage comes to a halt and shakes slightly to Mr. Reed dismounting, moments later he opens the carriage door for its passengers. Nathan looks to Lydia before gesturing for her to step down first. Graciously, she crouches over to the door to avoid hitting her head on the carriage ceiling and steps down into the dismal village street with the help of Mr. Reed. Nathan follows and moves over next to Lydia to survey what little excitement the village beholds.

With the shut of the carriage door, Mr. Reed turns to face the two. "Now then, I will fetch the potatoes from the general store, Miss Van Dort. As to you, Mr. Wallis, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I hope to come across you again." Mr. Reed shakes hands with Nathan before walking away towards the store behind the carriage.

Lydia looks about the street, remaining aware that both her grandparents' estates keep watch over the streets. She looks to opposite side of the street to see Everglot manner, she hopes that neither grandparents, particularly her grandmother is watching her from one of the many windows. Lydia cannot comprehend what a fuss her grandmother would make to her being seen in public dressed as she is. Not that grandmother Van Dort, in the mansion just behind her, would be mush better. Rather, Lydia thinks, she'd be more intrigued by the potential gossip of her Grand Daughter standing beside an apparent gentleman caller than her raggedy attire.

Just in case however, Lydia takes a step backwards towards the carriage in the hopes that it will hide her from the prying eyes of her Grandma Nell. Nathan, while not completely understanding her antics, takes a clue and steps back with her.

"Would you look at that?" Nathan says as he nods towards the statue in the center of the square.

Lydia looks in it's direction and spots crowding around it's massive stone base, is a group of soldiers. Men of young age clad in their dapper brown uniforms with his Majesty's Crown pinned to their collars, tan belts lined with pouches and supported by suspenders wrap their torsos, and slung over their shoulder's are their rifles. Beside their fine leather boots that reach up to their knees, are their olive green duffle bags, filled with all the necessary equipment to perform their duties.

"You don't see that every day around here." Lydia confidently states. True it is, Lydia has never personally seen anyone of military stature in the village. However, she remembers her father saying that there were once two generals that lived in the town, but that was a lifetime ago. Her Grandpa William may recall such a time.

She looks up at Nathan to see him smiling at the troopers. "I've always considered it you know." He says almost in awe.

"Considered what?"

"Joining the Army, and why not do it now? History is currently being made across the Channel in France with the War to End all Wars."

Lydia closes her mouth as she starts to feel it drop to the thought of him going to fight a war considering she just met him. However, she remains silent as she is not sure how to respond, what to say. She stands there and nods.

"The German's can't keep up this fight forever." He continues, "And once America sends their Yankees over, the Hun's will be no match." Nathan pauses for a moment. "I suppose it would be no different to another job, do my time, get out, on to the next. Perhaps, I may even just get a sense of belonging through it, something I've never felt before."

Lydia doesn't know what to think, she's met this nice guy and wants nothing more than to know more about him, and he's already talking of leaving to fight in a war she knows little about.

"For now, though," Nathan's tone changes, "I'd like nothing more than to simply get to know you more, Miss Van Dort." Nathan holds out his hand, offering to take hers.

Lydia perks up a bit, feeling as if she may swoon and touched that he's considering being with her over joining the Army. Lydia smiles and stares deep into Nathan's eyes as she reaches out to caress his hand with her dainty fingers. Nathan gently takes her hand and kisses it with his warm lips. In that moment, Lydia feels herself become lightheaded and her knees give out from under her, for a moment she realizes she's falling before Nathan catches her in his arms.

Nathan laughs as he helps her back on her feet, asking if she's alright.

"I'm fine." She smiles, a little embarrassed at the same time. She's thankful she decided to wear boots before leaving the house, she'd likely be on the ground if she'd wore heels or fall back into his arms; not that she would oppose that.

Nathan laughs again, that laugh Lydia wishes to hear more of. "I should be on my way, I have to try and find somewhere to go tonight."

Lydia wants more than ever to invite Nathan to stay at her house, but she doesn't know how her parents would react to bringing him home.

"Oh, um." Lydia quickly tries to come up with a solution, "Well, there's an old inn just down the street that recently reopened. I believe they are short on staff and could use a hired hand. Plus, there's a suite just over the reception room that I'm sure they would be willing to rent out to you."

"I may have to look into that, thank you, Miss Van Dort."

Lydia shakes her head and smiles, "Please, just call me 'Lydia'."

Nathan bows his head, "As you wish, Lydia. Until next time then."

Nathan walks away from Lydia towards the inn, Lydia wishing she could go with him, just to talk to him for a little while longer. She gasps suddenly as thought comes to her, she calls out to Nathan without regard of anyone staring, "How will I see you again?!"

Nathan stops in his tracks and looks back at Lydia.

"Don't you forget?!" he calls followed by tapping his temple, "I know where you live!" With a wave goodbye he continues down the cobblestone street towards the inn.

Lydia smiles in delight as she clasps her hands together and buries them in her bosom while she starts to daydream of meeting him again. Her fantasy is interrupted suddenly by the feeling of bonny fingers firmly wrapped around her arm. Before she can glance back to see who was digging their nails into her arm, she is aggressively spun around. With wide eyes, she gazes upon the familiar disapproving face of her Grandmother Everglot.

"What impropriety is this?" she scolds, "Are you trying to embarrass us?"

Lydia gathers her thoughts in trying to figure out what she's done wrong, the possibilities are endless with her grandmother.

"Grandmother?" is all Lydia can say.

Maudeline's old sunken eyes squint at Lydia, not in the efforts to closely look at her, but for her dwindling eyesight as Lydia and her sisters suspect; however, she'll never admit it. The wrinkles forming at the corners of her mouth give even more definition to her disapproving frown.

The bitter old woman stares down her nose – or chin – at Lydia, "What do you think society will think of us seeing our heir dressed as the common folk? Do you want our family to look like panhandlers in the streets scavenging for mere pennies?"

Lydia blushes as she holds her hands behind her back and stares at her boots.

"My apologies, Grandmother." Lydia says quietly, "I didn't intend on coming into town."

Undeterred by her Grand Daughter's excuse, Maudeline crosses her arms. "Look up, child, and stand up straight!" she demands, "Regardless if you intended to come into town or not, your Mother should have never allowed you to leave dressed like that. Has she learned nothing from me raising her?"

Lydia could say her mother knew nothing about her even leaving the house. However, that may simply make the situation worse. She must try and change the topic.

"What are you doing out and about, Grandmother? It's not often you or Grandfather leave the house."

Maudeline's eyes narrow to the point it's hard to decipher whether they are open or closed. "You are in no position to ask questions, child. But if you must know, your Grandfather wanted to see those soldier's guns." Maudeline points her chin the direction of the group of soldiers.

Lydia looks over her shoulder to see past the soldiers, Finis sitting in his wheelchair with the new butler, Johnathan, standing behind him waiting to wheel him wherever Finis pleases. In his hands, Finis holds the rifle of a soldier with three chevrons pointed down his arm. With his eyesight as weary as Maudleline's, Finis has a monocle propped up to his right eye as he cocks his head to closely inspect the weapon, so close that his deep nasal breaths brushes against the wooden stock.

"As for you, child." Maudeline turns her attention back to Lydia, "You best be getting in that carriage and return home before you humiliate our family any further." Maudeline turns to walk away before stopping and looking back at Lydia again. "And tell your mother I thought I raised her better."

Maudeline walks off towards Finis with the elegance of the upper class and her chin held high, disregarding the passing commoners who stop to let her pass before them. Meanwhile, Lydia doesn't notice she is digging her nails into her forearm in reaction to her grandmother's insulting remarks towards her mother. She longed to say something, but she knows it would only make the situation with her grandmother worse, and it may also turn onto her mother as well.

Lydia giggles the latch of the carriage door before it pops open without a squeak from the well-oiled hinges. Inside she finds a large crate of potatoes sitting on the floor, with the upper half of Mr. Reed's body seen through the open doorway on the opposite side of the carriage.

"All ready to go we are?" he asks politely, "Got that 'fresh air' did you?" Lydia caught the hint of sarcasm in Mr. Reeds voice when he said, 'fresh air'.

Lydia smiles, "Indeed, it was rather nice." She then thinks of her grandmother. "Though, it turned a bit fowl towards the end."

Lydia grasps the carriages handle bar to help hoist herself into the cab and works her way around the crate of spuds. Mr. Reed, a little confused by Lydia's last remark, simply shrugs before shutting the carriage door and climbs up to the driver's seat. Lydia tries to get comfortable before Mr. Reed pulls away, but she falls backwards into the seat as the carriage jerks forward to the sudden sound of the reins snapping. She narrowly avoids twisting her ankle in her fall backwards as her foot was caught between the crate and the passenger's seat. She certainly does have the grace of her father.


	4. Dinner Conversations

While Lydia's parents were disappointed in her leaving without telling them, they were at the very least relieved she left with Mr. Reed, someone to whom they have trusted since she was born. At the dinner table they sit quietly, with the exception of Ann continuing to fill her mother in on her having tea with grandmother and grandfather Everglot. Only Ann can somehow extend such a short and dull story as having tea with their grandparents into a prolonged drama. Lydia rolls her eyes and scopes a chunk of potato from her soup as her sister goes into telling how she burnt her pinky finger on the hot tea cup and thought Father had to summon a nurse.

In a twist, Ann changes the subject of burning her finger to her garments she wore to tea. "I only wish Grandmother would have said something of my pretty dress." She frowns.

Suddenly Lydia feels the potato slip to the back of her throat, she quickly exasperates a cough to keep herself from choking on the spud. She recovers quickly, and for a brief second, she swears to have seen Catherine express a look of concern across her face. But only for a second. All eyes around the table are on her from the outburst, her father nearly out of his seat as if ready to jump in and help.

"Are you alright, Lydia?" Victoria asks, her face still in a bit of shock.

"I'm alright." Lydia says quietly and tries to come up with an excuse, "I just, I just—"

"Forgot to chew?" Catherine says mockingly at her.

Lydia, not wanting to deal with her sister, just nods and says, "It would seem so."

Catherine, a little surprised by her older sister not making a cleaver comeback, smiles and returns to her dinner.

Victor muffles a laugh. "Next time, I recommend chewing eight to ten times before swallowing."

Lydia smiles slightly to her fathers' humor. The real reason she nearly choked on the potato, was due to Ann's mentioning of her dress. She began to think of how her grandmother had found her in the town square dressed in overalls, when she was under the assumption that she had been fitted for a new dress earlier in the morning. It's a wonder she hadn't mentioned it, perhaps she was too in denial of her current outfit to notice.

"Oh, enough of the tea party, Ann dearie." Mrs. Reed says as she steps between Catherine and Mary to set her fresh baked blackberry pie in the center of the table. "In other news, Mr. Reed tells me Lydia has a potential gentlemen caller."

Catherine's eyes go wide as her head floods with what possible ways she can mock Lydia with this new information. But before she can say anything, Mary bursts out, "Lydia's got a boyfriend! Lydia's got a boyfriend!"

"Mary, enough." Victoria hushes her.

Victor raises an eyebrow and looks to Lydia as he cuts into the pie. "'a gentlemen caller'? Care to elaborate?"

Lydia shoots Mary a cold stare. "He's not my boyfriend."

 _At least not yet!_ Lydia instantly thinks to herself.

"He's just a boy I met as he was helping Mr. Reed. We gave him a ride into town when we went in to get the potatoes."

Catherine smirks, "Were the potatoes the reason you went into town? _Or_ was it _him?_ "

"I just wanted to get some fresh air. But yes, I did enjoy getting to know and spending time with him. He's a nice guy, a boy who I wouldn't mind seeing again sometime."

Victor passes Victoria a slice of steaming pie, before looking back at Lydia. "Well as long as you two remain friends, you are far too young to be courted. Younger than your mother and I were when we married, and we didn't even get to have a courtship. And frankly, I'm not very fond of idea of courting a stranger to this town."

Lydia grows angry to be lectured on proper courting from her father. She is tired of hiding away her feelings from her family, she wants more than ever to be heard. With one deep breath, she gathers her nerves as she rises to her feet. She feels herself trembling slightly as she balls her fists.

"And who are you to say when or who I may court?" Lydia says in a harsh tone, "You of all people! Who left mother for a corpse!"

"Lydia!" Victoria sternly states to her disrespectful tone to her father.

Victor, however, waves his hand towards Victoria before turning to Lydia and nods.

"Go on." Is all he mutters.

Lydia want's nothing more than to run out of the dinning room, out of the house. But she knows there's no turning back now, and her father is allowing her to be heard. "Though your marriage was arranged, you told mother you loved her and would be with her always. Then you immediately ran away to marry that dead woman!" Lydia points out the window towards the woods that lie past the bridge to the church, where her father says to have met the Corpse Bride. "You were even so much as willing to poison yourself to be with this woman and leave mother forever." Lydia can feel her eyes starting to welt with tears, she must end her rant quickly before she completely breaks down. "And now, _you_ are trying to dictate who _I_ can love? You, when you cared so little about breaking mothers' heart."

Lydia pushes her chair away as she runs out of the dinning room with tears in her eyes that she wipes away with her sleeve. She can hear her mother calling her name behind her, but her father stops her in convincing her to let her go. Up the stairs Lydia hurries, and into her room she slams the door behind her.

She leaps into her bed and buries her face into the pillow to dampen the sound of her cries. While the weight on her chest from all the anger that has been building up has been released, it comes with the cost of the immense guilt she feels for acting out in such a way in front of her mother. She knows it must pain her mother to be reminded of her fathers' betrayal, regardless that they married in the end.

Lydia gathers her emotions. Her pillow is wet with tears, she turns it over so that it's opposite side faces out. With the rub of her eyes, she walks over to the table beside her bed with a small basin of water in front of a mirror. Lydia lites the kerosene lantern sitting beside the bowl, the room becomes brighter with the flames orange glow that blends with the moonlight coming from the windows. She looks into the mirror to see her eyes have grown red and puffy, she dips her hands in the water and splashes her face in attempt to alleviate the redness.

Once she dry's her face with her shirt, she moves back over to the bed to take a seat at it's foot. Lydia listens the calming sound of the lanterns burning wick as she slows her breathing in the effort to relax. All she can hear is the sound of the wick, her slow beating heart, and the chorus of crickets outside her window. Another sound comes to ear, this one outside the door, the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. Her mothers footsteps, as Lydia can recognize, likely coming up to talk to her.


	5. New Revelations

It wasn't her mother who came up to see Lydia, she was rather surprised to have mistaken her mothers' steps for Mrs. Reeds. Behind her bedroom door, she found the weary old housekeepers face instead of Victoria's, Lydia was relieved however that it wasn't; she doesn't think she can face her mother so sudden.

Mrs. Reed expressed her deepest apologies for bringing up such a subject before her entire family, she blamed herself for Lydia's outburst. However, Lydia assures her that she is not at fault for her actions, that it was her alone responsible for it. She didn't have to lash out on her father like that, at least not there at the dinner table, and she could have been more professional about it. She could have even simply bottled up her frustration as she does any other time, but she didn't.

"I suspect Father is waiting downstairs to talk to me?" Lydia says softly, her gaze fixed on Mrs. Reed's flour dusted apron.

Mrs. Reed shakes her head. "On the contrary, dearie. Your father has locked himself away in his study. He feels it is best you talk with your mother instead."

Lydia looks up from the apron and into Mrs. Reeds eyes.

"Your mother is waiting for you down in the parlor. She has instructed your sisters to go to bed early, so that you two may talk alone."

"Thank you, Mrs. Reed." Lydia says, "I shouldn't keep Mother waiting."

"Very good. Mr. Reed and I are going to retire for the night, we will see you in the morning."

Mrs. Reed leaves Lydia's room with the door open only a crack, not wanting to let the sound of the door latching shut to echo through the house in case the girls are listening attentively behind their doors for any clues as to what's going on.

Lydia waits a couple minutes before taking a deep breath to the thought of now having no choice but to see her mothers face.

 _What does she think of me?_ Lydia thinks, _What will she say?_

Lydia takes her time going down the dark stairway, leaving a long silent pause between the creaks of each step. At the bottom step she stops and looks past the rail and into the dim candle lit parlor, all that remains of the fire that lit the room is smoldering embers morphing to ash, leaving the parlor dark and cold. She sees her mother sitting at the piano, facing away from her. Lydia slowly walks up behind her mother, the closer she gets, she comes to hear her mother humming a quiet tune as she scales her fingers along the tops of the keys, mimicking the tune she hums. She often stops for a brief second to correct herself when she places her finger on the wrong key.

Lydia stops behind her mother, careful not to make any noise. She listens to the sound of her mother's sweet sing, it's a tune she's heard before, one part of a duet she'll play with her father.

Victoria stops humming, and her thin hands fall from the piano and clasp into her lap.

"Hello, Lydia." She says calmly without turning around, "Please, sit down."

Lydia does as her mother asks and sits beside her on the bench, facing away from the piano.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Lydia quickly says, "It wasn't my place to act out, I—"

Lydia stops mid-sentence to the feeling of her mother's hand caressing her shoulder. She looks over and locks eyes with her, the intense solace behind Victoria's tired eyes tell Lydia to just listen. In an unexpected twist for Lydia, Victoria leans towards her daughter as she puts her arms around her to pull her into a hug. Lydia rests her head on her mothers' shoulder and feels Victoria's gentle breaths brush her neck. For what seems like several minutes, they sit there on the piano bench holding each other.

"I know it wasn't easy for you to speak up." Victoria whispers into Lydia's ear,

Her mothers' words, Lydia is caught by surprise. She sounds to almost be encouraging her acting out.

Victoria continues, "I know you resent your father for marrying Emily. You feel he betrayed me, and never cared for me as he did Emily. I assure you, he loved me then just as I did him, and we still love each other very much."

Lydia pulls herself away from her mother's grasp. " _How?_ " She asks, "How could you love him given what he did? And why? Why do you even acknowledge the dead woman by her name?"

Victoria looks past Lydia to the wall that supports a blue and white butterfly, pinned and framed for display in a shadowbox. "I do not hold any ill feelings towards Emily, not after what she did for Victor and me. At first, I feared her as much as I despised her for taking Victor away. But your father, Lydia, did everything within his power to return to me."

Lydia can only listen and wait for her mother to continue as she recalls memories from so many years ago.

"I still remember that night, in every detail." Victoria continues, "I felt my heart break when the town crier announced Victor had run off with a mystery woman. I held onto what little hope that it wasn't true when your Grandma Nell said he didn't know any women. But regardless, what I did know was that he was gone, and I thought I'd never see him again."

Lydia notices her mothers' hands fidgeting in her lap. "I had to get away, get away from the drama unfolding between your grandparents in the drawing room, so I separated myself from it by retreating to my bedroom. There I sat sewing together a blanket, trying to get my mind off grieving and worrying about Victor's sudden disappearance, but it didn't work as I hoped. However, soon came a tapping from outside the balcony doors, it was your father."

Victoria closes her eyes and smiles as she once again feels that warm embrace she felt when she saw him then. "In what little time he had before Emily took him away, he explained he had married unexpectedly. But wat I remember most, was how he expressed how he truly felt of me for the first time. He told me how that morning of the rehearsal, he was terrified to be married, however on meeting each other, he felt he wanted to be with me always and he knew he wanted to make me his wife."

Lydia never heard this part of the story, or if she had, she never payed attention.

"So he _did_ love you." Lydia says, "But, how did he get back to you? How did he get away from the dead woman?"

"He told me after our wedding that he had to lie to Emily in order to convince her to let him be alone. She naïvely fell for his rouse, when she found out the truth that Victor came to see me, she felt betrayed. Thinking that Victor was, I suppose, having an affair for say."

Lydia takes to mind how her father went outside his morals of being an honest man, to lie in order to see her mother again; to lie for the sake of loving her. However, one part of the story - at least the one she's familiar with – she can't make sense of.

"If Father loved you," Lydia mutters, "then why did he still marry the dead – er, _Emily_?" a strange, almost surreal, feeling comes across Lydia from addressing the Corpse Bride by her name.

The tranquil look on Victoria's face fades as the warm memory of her and Victor in her bedroom slips away and ushers in the dark and cruel memory of the fiend who nearly made her life now but a wishful dream. The memory she has tried so hard to suppress and eventually forget, but to no avail.

"Because I betrayed him." Victoria whispers, "I had married another, even when he expressed his love to me."

Lydia's jaw drops slightly as she wonders if all this time she had been wrong about her father. Had she mistaken her mother for him?

" _Why then?_ "

Victoria frowns as she bows her head, looking at Lydia through the corners of her eyes. "It wasn't my choice. My parents never believed me when I told them Victor was married to a dead woman and that he was taken away by her. No matter how much I tried to explain it to them, no matter how much I begged them for their help, they dismissed my claims and simply thought I had gone mad." Lydia spots a tear forming in her mothers' eye. "They locked me in my room, that is, until they came to force me into a marriage with an apparent wealthy aristocrat, and a stranger to the town. They concluded that Victor had eloped with some strange woman, and they had to pawn me off to the next bachelor capable of supporting them financially. The man was a con artist, a snake using its charm to deceive Mother and Father into thinking he was a lord with vast wealth. He married me for my dowry, thinking we were wealthy; which we weren't."

Victoria pauses, her breath shaky. "I don't want to talk about him any further. But hadn't I married your father, I likely would be dead. Murdered by the monster, as he had killed poor Emily."

Lydia's eyes widen, "He was the same person who murdered Emily?"

Victoria nods slowly, "And took whatever money and riches she had on her. Played her, and married her, only to steal from her and leave her for dead. Just as he tried to do to me." Victoria turns her torso to fully face Lydia. "It was during the reception for my marriage to that monster on 'The Night the Dead Walked the Earth', as the township has come to call, when I found Victor at the alter with Emily. After he'd heard of my marriage, he was heartbroken. With his dream of marrying me gone, he thought he could at least make Emily's dream come true by marrying her. But to do so, he had to…he had to…" Victoria struggles at finishing the sentence.

"Kill himself." Lydia finishes, "The poison."

Victoria can only nod. "I went to the church, following a parade of the dead. I didn't really know why I was there, but when I saw Victor, I knew it was either to get him back by explaining what I had done, or to say goodbye. I made my way up to the alter, I watched and listened to Victor say the vows he was supposed to give me. I stood there, nearly certain I was too late; that I had already lost him…But then, it was Emily who stopped Victor from completing his vows and taking his own life. She had an epiphany upon seeing me off to the side, that in marrying Victor, she was taking away from me the very thing stolen from her, her dreams of being a bride. She loved your father, but he didn't love her as he does for me, so she reunited us at the alter; sacrificing her dream so that we could live ours. For such a noble act, I could never be angry with her for taking Victor away, nor could I with Victor for having felt betrayed by my marriage."  
"I…I never considered that part of the story." Lydia says, shameful in herself for overlooking such an important detail.

"I only wish there were some way for your father and I to thank her, for everything. When you were born, we thought the best way we could do that while honoring her memory was to name you after her, 'Lydia Emily Van Dort'."

Lydia feels ashamed with herself for having carried on as she has about her father and Emily; when if it hadn't been for her, she may not have existed. She grows more embarrassed by her actions, furious with herself for having never looked deeper into her mother and fathers wedding story.

 _How am I going to apologize to Father?_ Lydia thinks to herself, _What can I even say?_

"I…I understand now, Mother." Lydia whispers to the ground, "I've made a terrible mistake."  
Lydia feels her mother's place her finders under her chin and gently lift her head up. A tear falls from Lydia's now watery eyes, it gets halfway down her cheek before Victoria wipes it away with her opposite hand as she kisses her forehead.

"It's alright." She passionately assures her eldest daughter, "The story itself is rather absurd to believe, with it, you tried to make any rational sense of it. Being, that your father left me for another woman, and regardless that we married in the end, he never loved me as he did for Emily. However, Lydia, your father and I loved each other from the moment we met, and we couldn't be happier with how everything turned out. Happily married for nearly twenty years, and have raised four beautiful girls, we couldn't ask for anything more." Victoria's smile brings comfort to Lydia's troubled emotions. "Frankly, if continuing to have this life meant doing everything all over again, your father and I would do so without question."

Lydia stands up from the piano bench. "Thank you, Mother." She says before looking to the stairway, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I owe Father an apology."

Victoria smiles and bats her eyes a couple times, "I'm sure your father would appreciate it very much."

Lydia nods as she walks towards the stairs, but before she passes the banister, she looks back at her mother. "And is it true then? What happened to Emily? She was freed of her curse?"

"It was a vow, dearie, not a curse." Her mother explains, "But, yes. Emily made a vow on her death that she would wait at that old oak tree until her true love came to set her free. Though she and your father did not officially marry, she had found _her_ true love, and her vows were lifted in doing so. She had nothing more to bind her to this earth, her sole – as I suspect – ascended to heaven, or her next stage in life. Though, I can't be sure of where she is, given what your father has revealed of what comes after death; I do know she is in a better place. I saw her passing myself with your father, and it was a sight to behold."

There isn't a sound coming from behind the door into her father's study.

 _He must be asleep behind his desk._ Lydia thinks.

She knows she shouldn't disturb him; however, she feels it would be wrong to wait until tomorrow to give him her apologies. Besides, until she relinquishes her guilt by apologizing to him, she feels she won't be able to have an easy night's sleep.

With the careful twist of the doorknob, she slowly opens the door in the efforts to avoid it from squeaking loudly. Through the small crack she has made between the door and the frame, she peers into the study to see her father sitting in his desk chair with his back to her. He appears to be staring at something through the window.

Lydia quietly squeezes herself through the small opening before shutting the door softly behind her. She walks towards her father, trying not to raise any alarm of her presence. The wood slatted floor is cold on the bottoms of her bear feet. Closer to her father she gets, until she can see over the back of the chair and his shoulder to see in his lap, his sketch pad of paper with his freshly inked pen in hand. On the paper, Lydia finds by no surprise, a picture of a butterfly.

 _Wait,_ Lydia thinks on observing the image closer, _Not a butterfly, a moth._

Outside the window, Lydia spots clinging to the panel of glass, a large moth batting its brown wings with white dots bellow their tips. Likely the nocturnal insect is attracted to the light of the kerosene lantern sitting on her fathers' desk, and Victor took the opportunity to sketch the creature.

Lydia's reflection, particularly her eyes, align perfectly with the white dots of the moth's wings; making it appear as if the moth has big eyes for wings.

Lydia blinks a couple times.

"Oh!" Victor jumps out of his chair in a shock, his paper and pen falling to the floor.

Like father like daughter, Lydia frantically steps backwards in shock of her fathers' sudden antics. But she relaxes once he turns around and sees her.

"Oh, dear." He stammers, "My apologies, Lydia. Your reflection rather frightened me." Victor, realizing that may have sounded a bit insensitive corrects himself. "I mean, err – your reflection in the window, on the moth, startled me."

Victor kneels to try and recover his pen that rolled under the desk.

"I'm sorry for sneaking up on you like that." Lydia says as she helps him pick up the sketch book.

"No worries." Victor says placing the pen on the desk next to the sketch book, "I…take it you talked with your mother?"

Lydia nods slowly. "She told me everything, everything I neglected to retain the first time I was told about Emily." Lydia places her hands behind her back. "Oh, Father, I'm can't express to you how sorry I am for having yelled at you like that at dinner, and for accusing you of never loving mother."

Her father just smiles and quickly slides the sketchbook and pen into one of his desk drawers. "It's alright. Trying to make sense of something that doesn't is human nature."

Lydia stifles a laugh, "You sound just like Mother."

Victor chuckles in his throat, "Well, we are compatible to each other. It's one of the reasons we work so well together and make our marriage work." He settles himself back in his chair. "Which brings me to what I wanted to talk with you about. I have to apologize for being so rash in learning of your 'gentlemen caller' as Mrs. Reed put it."

Lydia now feels a little awkward talking about this with her father, however, she knows it's something to address. Additionally, it might as well be now as this is the first time in a long while where she has talked with her father.

"It's fine, Father." Lydia says, "I understand you being protective."

"It's just, I don't want what happened to Emily to, well, happen to you. She was viciously murdered at the hands of a mysterious stranger who came to town, a stranger like this boy I've come to learn of. If you were to say run off with this boy, and tragically be, well, _killed_ by him, I could never live with myself knowing I let you suffer the same fate as Emily. Of course, I never knew Emily's father, but I imagine he must have been distraught when she disappeared and beside himself when had to face the reality that she was likely dead."

Victor reaches out and takes his daughters hands, pulling her closer to him. "Please, Lydia, do not put your mother and I through that. The thought of losing you, or any of your sisters for that matter, is incomprehensible."

Lydia nods and says under her breath, "Yes, Father."

Victor smiles, "Thank you, Lydia. Now, I know it's wrong of me to make such judgements of this boy, when I haven't even met him. Perhaps, you could bring him over for dinner one of these days. That may be a perfect opportunity for us to meet him and get to know him."

Lydia smiles, happy to know how willing her parents are to meet Nathan. However, another thought comes to mind. "Do my sisters have to be there?"

Victor laughs, "Well he'd have to meet the whole family at some point."

Lydia frowns.

"But I suppose we could see if Grandfather and Grandmother Van Dort would be willing to take the girls for a night." Victor says with a smile.

Lydia lights up, beside herself that father is so willing to be this kind to her after how she's treated him.

"Thank you, Father."

Victor smiles, "It's late, why don't we head to bed? Put today behind us and look forward to tomorrow."

"I'd like that." Lydia says feeling as if a massive weight has been lifted off her chest.

As Lydia heads for the door, she stops to look at her fathers framed drawing of Emily. The very picture she used to hate, she now finds a new appreciation for.

"Thank you." She says quietly under her breath.

"What was that, Lydia?" her father calls from behind his desk.

Lydia looks over her shoulder back at her father.

"Nothing. Talking to ghosts."


	6. Invitation

Lydia runs her hands down her bodice as if brushing away any invisible dirt that may have been gathered in her trip to town, while she straightens herself away, she rehearses in her head how she is going to approach Nathan once she enters the inn. She runs any possible answer he may give her in asking if he'd like to come over for dinner. If he says yes, she'd try her best to remain calm and nonchalant in the efforts to keep her from appearing over excited; which may possibly make him think otherwise on dinner. He could say he would but doesn't know when he can find the time, in which case she would eagerly try to work a date out with him then and there. He may, but Lydia desperately hopes not, reject her offer and not want to see her anymore.

Lydia looks at her reflection through the window of the neighboring building to the inn to make one final judgment on her appearance. Her burgundy dress isn't the most formal of attires, though the hoopskirt adds some formality, it is by no by no means like the elegant collage of colors she'd wear to a party. However, she and her mother are confident it wouldn't raise alarm in the event Maudeline is prowling about town, reason being that Lydia once wore it to tea with her and her grandfather. The dress almost reminds Lydia of her mother's favorite dress that she'll often wear. Its color being is the same dark burgundy as hers, except for there not being stripes on Lydia's and it doesn't reach up to her neck, but rather cuts off at her cleavage.

With one final check of her makeup and her neatly curled hair, she takes a deep breath as she strides up to the inns front door and pushes it open to walk onto the dinning floor.

Lydia recalls the history of the inn. Her Grandfather Van Dort told her it was once owned by a Frenchman named Paul, who had tragically been killed in a bizarre accident with the dumbwaiter. Not long after his death, yet _another_ strange accident ended tragically when the kitchen staff ingested poison. The kitchen staff left the inn to the Frenchman's next of kin, and now his cousin, Auguste as Lydia has come to know him, owns the inn. He certainly has turned the place around, it's by no means comparable to the Ritz in London, but it's the fanciest public establishment in town.

The walls have been freshly painted a mix of beige and gold, with prints of birds and landscapes lining the walls. A few portraits are scattered about too, one of them being of Lydia's Great-Grandfather Everglot. Lydia admires it for a moment, she always found it eerie how all the men on the Everglot side of the family look the same. Amusingly, the wig on her great-grandfather's head doubles his height. She wonders why Finis was so eager to donate it when Auguste came looking for portraits of local lords to display at the inn. When she asked him why he wanted to get rid of it, he answered that it reminds him of a time he'd rather not remember.

Lyida looks to the other side of the room, where she spots the portraits of the two generals who use to inhabit in the town; strange how the two almost appear to be looking at each other. Both suited in different uniforms, the shortest general in a blue double-breasted button down top with fancy white riding pants, and an exceptionally large bicorne hat on his head with a tuff of curled black hair escaping under the brim. The general opposite to him is tall and clad in the uniform of a British Dragoon, his frock coat is a stunning red with ornate medals pinned to his chest. Under his arm he holds an elegant gold officers dress helmet with a spike on top. But the most distinctive feature must be his long-curled mustache.

"Ah, Lydia!" comes Nathan's voice from across the room.

Lydia looks to the direction of his voice and sees him straightening one of the white linen table cloths. Lydia admires how handsome he looks dressed in the white kitchen staff uniform Auguste must have provided him.

"Nathan, hello." She says walking over to him, "You look great."

"Thank you, but it's you who truly looks the best."

Lydia feels her cheeks start to blush.

"What brings you here?" Nathan says as he pulls out the tables chair for her,

"Thank you." Lydia says as she takes a seat. "How has Auguste been treating you?"

Nathan turns a chair around from the opposite table to sit and face Lydia. "Well, it's only been a few days, but, it's been going well. He says since it's not often anyone checks out the suit upstairs, he's letting me stay in it until he gets a reservation."

"What are you going to do if a client comes along?"

"Well, that's an issue that will be handled if it comes. I guess there's the stack of flour in the back room, I'll just throw a few blankets and a pillow on it and I'll be good to go."

Lydia laughs at the thought of Nathan sleeping on a stack of flour.

"Auguste also provides three meals a day, so it's not a bad deal for the work I have to do. Bussing tables, cleaning the dining hall, greeting customers. Auguste's wife, Charlene, helps cook in the kitchen. She doesn't speak English, I must go Auguste for help translating if I ever talk to her. Which is usually to thank her for cooking dinner, she is really a talented cook."

Lydia suddenly remembers why she came to visit. "That actually reminds me why I'm here. I wanted to see if you are interested in coming over to my house for dinner?" Lydia catches herself biting her lower lip slightly in trying to anticipate his answer.

"Defiantly, I would love to have dinner with you. When do want me over?"

Lydia becomes giddy with excitement, "Tomorrow night? At seven thirty?"

"I can make that work."

Lydia can hardly contain herself.

Nathan smiles, "I best be getting back to work, the dinner shift will be starting soon, and I still have a few tables to arrange. I suppose, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I can't wait." Lydia smiles before she stands up.

She looks back now and then at Nathan as she walks down the row of tables. Smiling and laughing every time she looks behind her to see him watching her leave.

 _THUD!_

Not watching where she is going, Lydia smashes her hip into the corner of a table, almost causing her to fall over. A bit embarrassed, she oddly finds herself laughing to her blunder, she can even hear Nathan stifle a chuckle behind her. Now paying closer attention to where she walks, she makes for the door and steps out into the street to head back to her house to tell her mother and father of the news.


	7. Old Haunt

The scene is rather mundane, with the acceptation of the considerably deep depression in the ground at the base of the old oak tree; the tree like a black skeletal hand reaching from the ground to pull Lydia into the earth as it once did to Emily. The depression, Lydia has no doubt it was where Emily's murderer had buried her poorly, or if not it had been him, then the earth would have slowly claimed her body. It was here then – or err, in the Land of the Dead, Lydia isn't sure how the two worlds meet – where Emily waited for her true love to come for her. It was here, where her father had mistakenly put her mothers' wedding band on Emily's dead finger in practicing his vows.

That depression, now lush with grass and white lilies that dance in the gentle breeze coming through the surrounding timber. It's almost poetic, in a place marked by such a foul and cruel end to an innocent life as Emily's, there is life growing from the place she once lay lifeless.

Lydia sits down in the grass before the depression, reaches out and picks a single lily from its edge. She twirls its stem between her fingers, watching the petals move, she then takes the flower and nestles it between her ear and scalp.

"You know," comes a voice behind her; her fathers, "not far from here you'll find a tree with an imprint of my face in it." Victor laughs. "I ran into it so hard, mainly because of how fast I was running; running away upon seeing her for the first time."

Lydia laughs, but doesn't face her father. "And you weren't looking where you were going. Yet another skill I got from you. How did you know I was here?"

Victor gets down on one knee beside his daughter, "The town crier came by the house and told us he spotted you walking into the woods. I had a feeling you'd be here."

"So, this is where it all started?"

Victor nods, "This is the first time I've been back here since then. There's a headstone in the cemetery in her memory."

"I don't know why I came out here, it was as if something was pulling me here. Some desire to look upon this place with a newfound understanding."

"There is a different feel since I was here last. As if a shroud of sadness and turmoil has been lifted, and now the air is tranquil with serenity. No longer dark and gloomy, but bright and warm."

Victor puts his arm around Lydia and pulls her into him as they quietly watch the lilies sway.

"She's really gone then."

"No. She's still here, her spirit at least. Her soul may have left this earth, but her spirit surrounds us, she spreads her warmth through theses woods and inside us. No, she is not truly gone."

Lydia's smile is soft from her father's comforting words.

"Now," Victor says standing up, "I'm going to head back to the house, don't be far behind, your mother and I are anxious to hear what your friend said to dinner."

Victor walks off, down the same path he took many years ago.

"Dad?"

Victor stops, looking over his shoulder at Lydia, realizing that's the first time his daughter has ever addressed him as 'Dad'.

"Thank you."

A moment passes, before Victor continues to walk home with a smile on his face.

As Lydia rises to her feet to follow her father, a shimmer in the grass at the bottom of the depression catches her gaze. In her curiosity, she gets down on her knees and rests her hand on the brim of the depression to steady herself as she reaches down to grasp the object.

Now grasping the object, she pulls herself out of the depression and stands back up. In the palm of her hand rests a silver necklace, with a single vibrant green diamond pendant. Lydia imagines the fiend who murdered Emily likely dropped it upon steeling her jewels, odd how the earth hasn't claimed it and how surprisingly clean it is for having been sitting there long before she was even conceived.

Lydia turns the pendant over with her finger and finds the silver is engraved with three initials.

 _S.V.L._

Lydia becomes perplexed.

 _Who's S.V.L.?_


	8. Dinner with the Parents

**Sorry that it's been so long since I've posted anything. School's really gotten ahead of me, plus I began to doubt anyone even likes this stuff. Please leave a review if you like any of this and to let me know if I should continue to do this!**

Chapter 8

From the moment Nathan arrived at their house, Lydia's parents were already embarrassing her. First when her father took Nathan's coat to hang up, he stepped on the train and ripped a hole in its seams. Her mother tried to mend the hole, but her nerves of having Nathan over got to her and she ended up pricking her finger, bleeding a little on Nathan's light blue coat. As Victoria was "fixing" Nathan's coat, Lydia sat beside him in the parlor. Victor came in with a platter holding four cups and a pot of hot tea, he stumbled over the rug and nearly spilled the pot all over Nathan.

Lydia leaned close into Nathan's ear and whispered how sorry she was for her parents. He only smiled and replied that they are nice, and he is enjoying himself.

Lydia only grinned and commented that he hasn't met her sisters. In the back of her head she was thankful that her grandparents were willing to take them for the night. Her parents are bad enough, she's confident if he met her sisters, he'd be out the door and she'd never see him again.

Now, they sit around the dinner table dinning on a roast Mrs. Reed prepared in the day with a side of broiled cabbage and fresh baked rolls. The table is lit up by three candles sitting in its center, beside it sits a half empty bottle of red wine; this being one of the few times Lydia's parents allow her to drink.

Conversation is dismal, the crickets and cicadas outside in the garden talk more than they do. Victor and Victoria will occasionally interrupt the bugs conversation with a question for Nathan. Mundane questions, like where he's from, what he does for a living, and what brings him to the village. Nathan would answer just as he had for Lydia when they first met, that he has no true belonging anywhere, works for a place to rest his head a night and a hot meal, and then moves on to where work calls him next.

"And are you planning on staying here for long?" Victor asks.

Nathan smiles from across the table, "Not originally. However, with enough of a reason, I'd be compelled to stay longer." Nathan looks towards Lydia whose sitting beside her Victor; Lydia feels herself blush.

Victoria, who sits beside Nathan, takes a sip of her wine before looking at him. "There isn't much to do in this old town, work has been the same since I was a girl, there are not as many job opportunities here compared to the big cities."

"Yes." Nathan agrees, "I'll admit, a busboy isn't exactly something I want to be making a life out of. However, I've been considering joining her Majesty's Army."

Victor's eyebrows raise as Lydia takes a sip of wine in the efforts to hide the frown forming at the corner of her mouth.

"The Army?" Victor asks. "That would mean you'd have to leave."

Nathan sighs. "Yes, I'm aware. It would only be a short time though." He smiles. "I am young, able bodied, and living in perhaps one of the greatest wars mankind will ever see. Part of me want's to bear witness the War to End All Wars, and write my name in history; so one day I can look onto my grandchildren and proudly say I was there."

Silence. Lydia taking in Nathan's enthusiasm to get into the war, while her parents ponder their judgement of him.

Victor smiles. Fake. Lydia can tell.

"I can't say I can relate to your enthusiasm to go to war, as there was no war to fight in when I was young."

Victoria covers her mouth with the napkin as she laughs into it.

"What's so funny, Dear?" Victor asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing, Darling." Victoria says suppressing another laugh, "It's just the thought of you in the Army is a bit, _amusing_."

Victor opens his mouth to say something to contradict Victoria's claim, however, he too has a hard time seeing himself as a soldier. He considers how he accidently set her mother on fire during their wedding rehearsal and doesn't want to think what he may accidently do with a firearm.

Nathan reaches into his pocket and reveals a pocket watch. Quarter to 10:00.

"It's getting late," Nathan says, "I should best be on my way. I have to help Auguste unload a shipment early tomorrow morning, and it's a bit of a walk back to town." Nathan stands up from the table and gives a courteous bow. "Thank you for the meal, Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort, give my complements to Mrs. Reed on the excellent roast. It was nice meeting you."

"As was to you, Nathan." Victoria says.

"Let me get your coat and see you out." Lydia says with a smile.

Nathan thanks her as he exits the kitchen with Lydia behind, Lydia hurries into the parlor to fetch Nathan's coat as he moves by the front door. From down the hall, Victor and Victoria hide behind the kitchen doorframe, listening to the two talk.

"Thank you for coming," comes Lydia's voice, "I'm sorry about your coat."

"Not a problem." Nathan. "I had a great time. I'll see you again soon?"

"Of course! I'll be sure to visit you at the tavern and see you around town."

They hear the door open, but it doesn't shut.

Victor and Victoria look around the corner to see the silhouettes of their daughter and Nathan move close together in the open moonlit doorway. Their eyes are closed, and lips grow closer to each other; a familiar sight to the two.

"Oh no." Victor whispers, "Not yet."

Victor summons his fatherly instincts, puffs his chest out, and holds his chin high. He prepares himself for what he's going to say, when suddenly, Victoria pushes past him, reaches for the table, and grabs the basket of Mrs. Reed's rolls.

"Oh Nathan!" Victoria calls sweetly as she quickly steps into the hallway.

A deflated feeling comes over Victor, upset he couldn't put on his fatherly face before Victoria stepped in. He steps into the doorway and watches Victoria get between Nathan and Lydia.

"Please, take Mrs. Reed's rolls." She says acting like she didn't see what just happened. "She'd love to share her great baking."

Lydia steps aside, her face red and eyes flustered.

Nathan laughs as he gratefully takes the basket and covers the rolls with the corners of the linen cloth under them. "Thank you, Mrs. Van Dort. It's much appreciated."

"Good night, Mr. Wallis." She says.

"Good night." He replies before turning to Lydia, "And good night to _you,_ Lydia."

Lydia smiles, admiring the glisten in his eyes in the moonlight.

"Good night, I guess." Is all she can think of.

With a wink and a grin, Nathan turns and walks outside, down the porch steps, and onto the dirt road that leads to the village. The moonlight being his guide home.

Victoria shuts the door and looks to her daughter.

"You saw?" Lydia mumbles.

"Saw what?" Victoria says before kissing Lydia's forehead, "Off to bed, Sweetie. Your Father and I will handle the dishes."

Victoria moves down the hallway and into the kitchen where Victor places the dishes into the sink. Victoria moves up behind Victor to wrap her arms around him and rest her soft cheek into his back.

"Hope I didn't steel your thunder." She whispers.

Victor laughs, "Not at all. Though I could have handled it."

He turns around and hugs her back.

"I'm sure you would have, Victor."

Victoria gets up on her toes so that she may lock lips with her husband. She can't help but feel young every time she kisses him, and she hopes she never loses that feeling. Victoria pulls her lips away from his and rests her head on his chest, listening to his heart palpitate, just as Victor can feel hers through her breasts against his chest.

Victor traces Victoria's chin line with his index finger, taking pleasure in feeling how soft and smooth her skin is.

Victoria places her hand on Victor's left breast and gently caresses it as Victor buries his nose into his wife's hair and breaths in deep; lavender. Moments like this, he feels such passionate urges and desires to feel her entire body, and lovingly intertwine with her; a feeling she too shares.

"You know," Victor whispers into her ear, "The kids are out of the house."

Victoria rubs her forehead against Victors chest. "Except for Lydia."

"True. But when was the last time we only had one kid in the house?"

Victoria looks up at Victor, admiring him in the moonlight coming through the kitchen window. "Alright." She hums. "Keep it quiet though, and you're doing dishes in the morning."

"Sure, even though I know you'll end up helping."

Victoria smiles knowing he's right. She kisses him once before pulling away and taking him by the hand, guiding him through the kitchen, up the staircase, and towards their bedroom.


End file.
